Iris
by oldnapkin
Summary: "Inside my host's heart there is no place for loving men." Santana said, slightly ashamed and half scared. She knew she'd suffer the consequences later, consequences for messengers of the Lord were inevitable. "There is no place to love anyone but her."
1. Chapter 1

_Iris_

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><p>Part 1: The Doctor, 2001<p>

"Why do men cheat?" Rachel's sweet voice echoed a bit through the supermarket's hall as they walked shoulder to shoulder, both women dressed in identical long sleeved black dresses.

"I don't know." Santana replied coyly as they walked over to the cashier, pretending to be normal costumers – and it was no use, since no one could see them anyway. The thought ran down her spine as Rachel frowned, taking a deep breath.

After a few minutes of their usual and comfortable silence, Santana spoke.

"As men, do you mean men and women, or just men?"

"Both." The word left Rachel's pink lips, sounding like a bare whisper.

Santana swallowed hard, flashbacks hitting her like sharpened knifes. Just as she observed the humans doing their groceries, she felt an ache, spreading through the middle of her chest, just above her external bone – and burning through her heart, her cold, unbeating heart, until the blood flooded through it again. The amount of pain she felt wasn't physical. It was the first time her heart beat in years, and the sound went from the tip of her toes to her ears, pounding so hard she closed her eyes glistened with shocked tears before she opened them again, her iris black with sadness.

"In that case…" She said, her voice heavy. "I really don't know."

Rachel turned to the tallest. "My host, she...she loved someone."

"How could you possibly be certain?" Santana pretend she didn't know as the organ continued beating, spreading emotional pain through her body. "You know that hasn't happened in centuries."

"Don't make a fool out of me, Santana." Rachel said, the pain on her chocolate eyes denouncing her heart was now beating, too. "I know we're both the exceptions the Lord –

"Don't say His name, you know there are more here." She hissed glancing at the man dressed in black just a few steps away from them, reaching out to squeeze Rachel's hand, feeling the hot skin burning against hers, confirming that both of her hearts were pumping blood and hurting.

The two of them stood inside the small supermarket in a random city in Arizona until the sun was setting down the hills, the sky a mix of yellow, red and pink, somehow something the angels, whom lived up there, would never understand as well as the imperfect and silly human beings.

When the simple owner of the place closed it, not aware of the presence of Santana, Rachel nor the tall, Asian man in the other side of the room, dressed on a black, long coat, the small brunette let out a content sigh, knowing she and Santana would be able to speak soon.

The Asian approached, bowing a little as Rachel and Santana did the same. "Good night." He murmured with a disapproving look as he passed through the walls easily, somehow taking with him a few of the illumination of the place as he left.

"Good night." They answered right after, finally letting out a huge breath neither knew they were holding, although technically, their lungs were dusty from the lack of use.

With desperate tears running on her cheeks, Rachel ruffled her own soft hair with both of her small hands, hiccupping and hugging herself, involving the small body with her tiny arms and breathing in and out harshly.

"You were never good in controlling your pain." Santana said, observing the brunette's actions leaned against the wall. "I remember, back there on training…" She sighed, remembering years ago when they weren't even proper messengers. "You winced and cried in pain whenever they electrocuted your heart back to function." She let out a raspy laugh. "I can't even tell how you manage now."

Instead of insulting Santana back – something Rachel never did, but the woman hoped she would since her words were meant to make the small woman hurt and react to her, in order to make her forget the heart ache somehow – Rachel sighed, letting her arms fall back to her sides and turning to Santana with angry tears on her eyes.

"Who was he, Santana?" Rachel asked harshly. "Who was he, whom you loved so dearly?"

"_She_." The word fell out from Santana's lips as she turned around, her eyes suddenly interested on a basket of apples, trying desperately to find a distraction so she would seem at least impartial.

"I beg your pardon?" Rachel said in pure shock.

"I said _she_." Santana cleared her throat after whispering the phrase.

The silence which filled the place between them seemed to give both of the women closure, but there was still a thousand words flying through Santana's and Rachel's minds. The first to break the silence was the shorter one.

"I don't –

Having enough of short explanations, Santana turned around, still too proud to let those tears fall, but managed to swallow the hurt in order to speak.

"Inside my host's heart there is no place for loving men." Santana said, slightly ashamed and half scared. She knew she'd suffer the consequences later, and consequences for messengers of the Lord were inevitable. "There is no place to love anyone but her."

Rachel's gaze fell immediately and the walls of protection and friendship between them grew stronger. The sound of a moving truck passing quickly through the streets made them both jump a few inches from the ground.

"I'm _so,_ so sorry." Rachel shook her head, reaching out for Santana's arm and gently caressing it with her thumb.

"L—Leave it." Santana's voice shook as she snapped her arm away from Rachel's and walked towards the refrigerators, not bothering to break its locks. Her hands passed through the glass smoothly as she grabbed a can of soda and opened it on a heartbeat. She took a long sip, letting the sweet and gassy drink drain through her chin.

"We're not supposed to do that." Rachel rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You know we can get into much trouble if –

"I suppose if I already had intercourse with a human, and even worse, with a woman, it can't get worse than this." Santana said through long sips.

"But either way, that kind sir who owns this place has four children and I'm sure everything you've been eating and drinking around here will make a huge difference on his paycheck. You know the Lord will punish me for watching you and not reporting you to the peacemaker angels and –

Santana interrupted her with a laugh. "I'm sorry to tell you this Rachel, but the Lord's system has failed even before the old Egyptians' society grew." She told her, shaking her head as she finished with the drink. "And that's fucking why I'm gonna be electrocuted to death in a few weeks, and if I'm lucky perhaps I'll still be a messenger when I get out of the Law building."

Rachel leaned on the biscuits' shelf, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them back again. "I'm sure they'll spare you." She nodded. "You didn't fall on sin with the human because you felt it. It was simply your host and her previous, unease feelings."

"I wish." Santana hissed, putting the can aside. "I wish it was my host's business, oh did I."

Logically, the woman didn't thought about the consequences of the act before speaking, therefore, Rachel burst out in fake laughter to protect them both from a severe punishment. "Oh San, sometimes you make me laugh with your silly jokes." She shook her head with a smile Santana knew it was fake, but nodded as a 'thank you', knowing she had just saved them both from a raw, old fashioned beat up.

When the Latina figured she had nothing else to say, she played with the can and with her own knuckles before sitting down besides Rachel as the small woman stared at her from above, biting on her bottom lip lightly as she demanded an explanation.

"She was a doctor." Santana rubbed her eyes with her hands, her heartbeats thankfully decreasing. "And her name was Brittany."

"W—Was?" Rachel stammered, thinking of the worse on how Santana used the past tense.

Santana nodded. "She doesn't mean anything to me anymore." Her voice sounded hard, but her body denounced the exact opposite.

"I understand." Rachel said professionally. "I'm glad you no longer feel for her."

"It's almost midnight." Santana interrupted the matter quickly. "We should go somewhere else."

"Well, I agree. This place is bothering me." Rachel stated simply. "Where would you like to go? You should choose this time. Maybe somewhere with not many messengers in order to give us more privacy to talk…"

Santana shook her head. "I want quite the opposite." She stated, looking at Rachel with a secret glance, carrying a billion of unsaid words. "Let's go to New York."

"But why would we go there? We would have to be around the other angels just as often as here and you know how you don't need that, now. The peacemakers have their eyes on you and…"

"I don't care." Santana stated honestly. "The peacemakers said it's all about healing, and I need to go to New York in order to heal."

Rachel rolled her eyes, rubbing her delicate face on her hands, not daring to say no to Santana, but not agreeing either. "You confuse me sometimes, San." She told her friend with a weak smile. "But I do hope you heal."

Both left the small supermarket exactly at midnight, making their way through the sky as they passed through the clouds, the cold air hitting their faces. When they got to the Big Apple it was about nine or ten in the morning, therefore, they decided they'd go where usually the angels spent their time bathing in the sun, an old helicopter runaway, no longer used by anyone.

Rachel left by noon, saying she had gotten a signal to head over to a nearest apartment of an elder woman – although Santana was sure her friend just realized she should be alone for some time. The Latina set herself on the borderline of the runaway, facing the sea miles and miles away, the blue color illuminated and highlighted by the yellow sun remembering her golden lavender scented hair and the bluest eyes in heaven and on Earth.

"Damn you, Britt." Santana hissed under her breath, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "Why would you make me come back?"


	2. Chapter 2

Part 1: The Angel, 1998

Brittany shifted uncomfortably in her car seat, staring at the unending line of vehicles in front of her. She took another sip of her hot cocoa, thinking to herself how come she decided to practice medicine in New York. If she lived in some small town she'd be at work by now.

Her mind wondered back to the stranger she left in her bed that very same morning. She barely remembered his name, and that was, of course, because she had too much to drink at the bar right in the corner of the streets near her building. The sex was bad, he smelled like a wastepipe rat and he wasn't that good looking. She only took him in because she was lonely. Living on a big city, having a great job and incredible looks weren't enough for her. Truth was, her entire life, she could've gotten any kinds of company she wanted, and she did, in fact, but it never truly worked. When it ended, the whole inside her chest was still as big as it was before.

A wasted hour later, Brittany finally got to the St. James Hospital where she worked as a general surgeon for the past three years. Jesse, the owner of the hospital, a neurologist and her boss gave her a written warning. Usually, he was nice and caring towards his employees but it was the fifth time Brittany was late for work that month and he wouldn't have that anymore. Another two written warnings and she'd be on the streets looking for a job.

For the first three hours of the day, Brittany filled some charges and checked on some post-operated patients, eventually hiding her face on the insides of her medical coat and yawning. If she knew _that _was she'd be doing all day, she would've just stayed home, kicked the gross man out and called sick.

However, dangerously near to her dinner break, her pager went crazy with an emergency; the beeps making her head ache. She rushed to the patient's room, having the nurses telling her the inner stitches of a heart transplant she had done two days back had broken. They soon rushed into surgery and she made sure she prepared herself as quickly as she could. She knew she was the best in her job, and she would not lose a patient over something silly as inner stitches.

The surgery begun well, Brittany managed to control the bleedings quickly and repair most of the stitches easily. Unfortunately, the stitches near the main artery were broken as well, and repairing those wasn't so easy. When she was sweating on her cap, her hands aching and begging for a break, her work halfway done, one of the new stitches broke as well from the blood pressure. Her staff quickly supported her, controlling the pressure as well as they could and monitoring the patient, lowering the oxygen charge hoping it'd help lowering the heartbeats, but it was no use. The blood was escaping the wound too quickly and no matter from how softly Brittany pumped the heart between her hands, she could feel the life of the ill man slipping through her fingers as her eyes randomly fell on an empty corner of the operation room.

She let out a small gasp of shock as she spotted a young woman around her age, Latina looking, staring at her with a small smile playing on her very kissable lips. Everything about the woman dressed in a black dress was delicate, and at the same time, so attractive she didn't seem human at all. Her dark eyes, smooth skin, dark hair and lovely smirk brought some kind of peace to Brittany she couldn't seem to remember when was the last time she felt so relaxed in her life. All she could do what stare, and when the woman's smile grew wider, she knew that no one else in the room was seeing her.

"Brittany." Her name fell from the Latina's mouth so easily it seemed like she was singing. The woman approached her, putting her gloveless hand on top of hers and sighed. "Let him go." She told her calmly.

The surgeon blinked softly at her, wanting so badly to do what she was telling her to, but she couldn't. She still had a tight grip on reality. She shook her head lightly, but the woman repeated. "Let him go, Brittany." She repeated. "He doesn't belong here anymore. His time has come."

When the grip of her hands softened around the organ and she finally let go, the woman in front of her had disappeared.

Brittany only had time to take a deep breath before speaking.

"Time of death, seven fifty three."

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><p>"Do you believe in ghosts, Jenny?" Brittany questioned her dog, throwing her a dog biscuit and watching as the golden retriever chewed on it and barked at her question. The woman shrugged it off and walked towards the fridge, opening it. "Yeah, neither do I."<p>

She sighed as she opened herself a can of soda, sipping the liquid quietly as she rubbed her eyes. "I think I haven't been sleeping well." She whispered to herself. "That's the only reasonable answer."

Convincing herself she was just stressed and overwhelmed, Brittany brushed her teeth after watching some crappy television and lied down, looking at the ceiling of her bedroom from her rented apartment. She was tired, of course, she always was, but each time she closed her eyes, her mind wondered back to the woman dressed in black, and the beautiful tone of her voice, the soft touch of her hand...

She eventually fell asleep, dreaming of fallen angels and spirits.

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><p>For the next couple of weeks, Brittany made sure to check each operation's room empty corner during the procedures, a part of her fearing seeing the gorgeous woman in black, and another bit of her hoping she'd eventually appear, but she didn't.<p>

Eventually, her life got back into places. She even started going to the same bar again, looking for strangers, but for some bizarre reason, she brushed every flirt she got off, something she never did.

After nearly four months she had spotted the woman, Brittany had just finished an exhausting day at work; it was late at night, around nine, but she dressed up in her gym clothes and went out for a jog, wanting to get some fresh air before she went straight home. She headed to a place near her building, an abandoned, old helicopter runaway. Her dad used to take her there whenever they went to New York, telling her there was where the angels landed once they came to Earth.

Since then, Brittany always visited the place, figuring she'd get closer to her father when she missed him. She sat by the edge of the runaway, her body shivering as the cold wind blew; the place only had a few light poles, and other than that, the runaway was dark; Brittany always feared being alone, that was something that always seemed to overtake her personality in every single sense, but something inside her made her believe she wasn't.

And she wasn't, indeed.

A light coming from the other edge of the runaway, the place exactly her dad used to say the angels landed, irradiated through the place for a few seconds, a small, weak light. It only got smaller and smaller until it basically disappeared, nestling itself in the middle of a woman's neck, tied up to what seemed a necklace. The woman, however, was illuminated enough by the light poles for Brittany to see: She was the delicate woman dressed in black from the operation room.

She was still dressed in black, Brittany noticed, and she was as beautiful as ever, like she assumed she would be. Her dark, shiny hair was tied up into a ponytail and her face seemed tired, but tender. The blonde quickly turned around, pretending she wasn't staring, her heart pounding hard in her chest; what if she was indeed seeing things? She was a doctor; she could name a thousand of mental diseases that included hallucinating as a symptom.

The Latina looking young woman, however, seemed to have another plans. The noise of her high heels hit the stone ground as Brittany froze, hugging her own knees as she sat, whispering to herself for her to calm down. Maybe she was going insane.

"Miss, are you alright?"

The voice called up at her, and she couldn't help but look. _Oh God, no_, Brittany thought to herself as her eyes met the gorgeous, unreal face of the woman, and yes, it was the same woman… The same woman who touched her hand so softly, who spoke to her and looked at her so lovingly… And she was staring down at her at that very moment the same way, her iris filled with love and compassion.

"You seem lost." She spoke. "Do you need help? A cellphone, maybe?"

Brittany didn't nod; she was too occupied staring in awe at the loving lady, as if she was sinking in every detail of her perfection, breathing in the scent coming out from her… At her question, she nearly said yes… Yes, she was so lost, and maybe she just needed a hug, or a cuddle…

"No." The word fell from Brittany's lips harshly as she got up, tugging in her own jacket. The blonde took a moment to examine the Latina once more. She was still dressed in black indeed, now only with black social pants and a heavy, fancy coat on top of her skinny frame as the cold wind blew on her perfect, tied up hair. "I'm just cold, I was jogging –

Brittany interrupted herself as the young woman smiled again, tenderly as she had done in the operation room, bringing to the blonde's body a feeling of peace once more. "You look like you could really use a hand." Santana grinned, taking Brittany's cold hand in hers.

The blonde's body was taken by unbelievable warmth, just as she had fever, but with a nice, burning feeling coming from the inside to out. She wondered how come she was _feeling _it… Maybe, she was really sick… Maybe, she was dreaming…

"My name is Santana." The woman grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. "It's nice to meet you, Brittany."

_Santana_. The name echoed itself through Brittany's mind; it was a powerful, strong, yet sweet name, and she couldn't help but think it fit the girl in front of her. She was once more overtaken, until her mind snapped, bringing her back to reality. How come she knew her name?

"What are you doing here?" The Latina questioned her with a small smile, looking around the helicopter runaway, bringing Brittany once more inside the perfect, bittersweet fantasy.

She couldn't bring herself to answer the truth. "Jogging. I've been doing it since I moved here." She told Santana; she'd never tell the beautiful woman in front of her the real reasons, of course… She still had a tight grip on what was real. "What about you?" Brittany asked with a small frown, nearly angrily.

Santana threw her head back, her smile wider as she looked at Brittany with those big, dark eyes. "My father used to say angels land here." She spoke, letting go of Brittany's hand and clearing her throat. "But it's getting late, I must go. If you insist you're not lost…"

Brittany was overtaken once more with the cold, too shocked by her tricky mind and only managing one more question. "How did you know my name?"

The Latina grinned, tapping Brittany's name tag she didn't remove after she leaved the hospital attached to her chest. With a small nod, she winked at Brittany before she walked away towards the nearest street.

The blonde was too star struck to realize the name tag she was wearing only had her picture and her last name, watching as Santana disappeared into the darkness.

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